On Thursday, my son finished up his junior year of high school, and today his dad, little sister and I drove him 75 miles to the Rhode Island School of Design, where he’ll spend the next 6 weeks immersed in Art. He’ll spend much of that time muddying his clothes in the ceramics studio, with his hands elbow-deep in clay that turns magical in his two hands — hands that have turned sinewy and strong from all his time at the potter’s wheel.
He hugged me and patted my back with those hands when we left to drive back home. He’s gone to summer camps before. But this was the first time that he didn’t push me toward the exit with impatience, counting the seconds before I would stop embarrassing him, or smothering him, or fretting too much, or whatever it is that I do that usually drives him absolutely crazy. “Thanks, Mom,” he said instead.
We were standing in his dorm room, the place that will be his home for the next six weeks. I don’t think he was talking about the twin-sized bed I had just made up for him, with the freshly purchased extra-long sheets and the fleece blanket from his bed at home. He seemed to be talking about something else entirely, and it was that other thing that caused a sudden lump to rise in my throat.
I had noticed it earlier: He walked with ease with the three of us around the campus, getting the lay of the land, taking it all in like he always does — like he always has since his newborn eyes focused so intently that as a new and nervous mother I was convinced it was the sign of a vision problem.
As we walked around the campus, and checked him in, and picked up his ID card, and visited the health office, and the housing office, and all that, he didn’t say much, really. But it was more what wasn’t there that I noticed: The way he didn’t walk two steps ahead of us or loiter behind us. The way he didn’t look away — seemingly mortified at being caught red-handed with the ridiculous people who spawned him — when we passed another student on the brick sidewalks near the school. The way that he didn’t roll his eyes when I clarified with the kitchen attendant some specifics of his meal plan, or got the exact coordinates of the laundry facility. And when I relayed it back, he actually listened, and he didn’t cut me off with an impatient, “O-kay! I know!”
In other words, he didn’t act one bit like he’d rather be anywhere else except where he was at that very moment, interacting with anyone else except me. If you have a teenager, or you’ve ever been one, you can recognize that behavior.
His “thank you” in the dorm room was for help with all of that, I think. But also for putting him there at all. By that I mean writing the check, of course. But more than that: for racing in the pouring rain to the post office to make the application deadline. For slogging through the confusing reams of paperwork the college sent. For the marathon seven loads of laundry just the day before. The desperate run for deodorant. The last-ditch stop on the way because I was worried he wouldn’t have enough cash for supplies. For the opportunity he seemed suddenly awed to realize he had been given.
I could fool myself into thinking that his thank you meant more than that: that he was grateful for all the stuff that fell into place in the 17 years leading up to today, too: All of the mostly thankless and unacknowledged stuff that I do, and any parent does, just to keep our kids healthy and happy and safely out of the path of a moving bus, those that are actual as well as metaphorical. But he probably wasn’t thinking of that, of course. Love rolls down hill. It’ll be years and years (I hope) before he has his own family and he’ll come close to understanding any of it.
All afternoon, in the back of my mind, while we zipped around the campus on foot on a hot, muggy day, I tried to think of a word that might describe how completely happy he was to be there, how excited, how amazed at the possibilities, how completely turned on he felt.
And then I tried to think of how it felt, as a parent, to see him so happy and alive. Most parents might describe it as pride, I guess. But pride doesn’t come close, because it’s not about me. It’s about him. What’s a word that describes how you feel when one of the people you love most in the world, one of the very few people you would gladly suffer deeply for, would do just about anything for just because they asked — no questions asked, no strings attached, no payment required — without resentment, or anything even close to anger or complaint, and in fact would see it as a kind of duty and honor? What’s the word for a kind of love that fills you up to the point that it overflows the brim?
Whatever you call it, that’s what rose in my throat today, and rendered me unable to tell him, right then, that I was happy for him. That I loved him. I hoped he’d have the time of his life, and goodbye.
Find more like this: Children, Parenting, Teenagers , life passages, mothers, Parenting, RISD, school, summer, Teenagers, transitions
Oh, Ann, thank you for this beautiful post! I’ve been there with my own sons. There aren’t words for the kind of love that fills your heart to the brim, and leaves you speechless. But you’ve come close . . .
Thanks everyone here…. for the kind words, the understanding, the links. And yes, “bittersweet” is ringing true this weekend, for sure.
Katybeth — I am so sorry for your loss. I had no idea.
Thanks everyone here…. for the kind words, the understanding, the links. And yes, “bittersweet” is ringing true this weekend, for sure.
Katybeth — I am so sorry for your loss. I had no idea.
Aw, Ann! This is so wonderful. My youngest boy just left me to live with his dad on the other side of the country so I know EXACTLY how you felt. He made the decision so maturely that while I was sad, it certainly made me proud. Luckily my oldest doesn’t want to do anything but live at home and go to college locally so hopefully your daughter will have the same tendencies.
Be brave!
oxox
Aw, Ann! This is so wonderful. My youngest boy just left me to live with his dad on the other side of the country so I know EXACTLY how you felt. He made the decision so maturely that while I was sad, it certainly made me proud. Luckily my oldest doesn’t want to do anything but live at home and go to college locally so hopefully your daughter will have the same tendencies.
Be brave!
oxox
I think I’m on the other end of that cycle. My oldest is just now 10 and beginning that change from being our loving, respectful son to one beginning to test the limits. My initial responses were a pretty clear reflection of how stubborn I can be, but I’m doing better now.
Mostly, I’m seeing that it’s his job to find his place, and mine to ensure he has the light by which to operate…even if he doesn’t realize I’m there, on the fringe, holding the flashlight.
You’ve detailed a wonderful story, Ann, and the much needed encouragement we all need from time to time to stay the course.
Thank you…
I think I’m on the other end of that cycle. My oldest is just now 10 and beginning that change from being our loving, respectful son to one beginning to test the limits. My initial responses were a pretty clear reflection of how stubborn I can be, but I’m doing better now.
Mostly, I’m seeing that it’s his job to find his place, and mine to ensure he has the light by which to operate…even if he doesn’t realize I’m there, on the fringe, holding the flashlight.
You’ve detailed a wonderful story, Ann, and the much needed encouragement we all need from time to time to stay the course.
Thank you…
What’s the word that describes this kind of love? Perfection.
What’s the word that describes this kind of love? Perfection.
Ann, once again you have put many important sentiments into words. The journey to adulthood always seems so long (and unforgiving these days). Then all of a sudden, “poof” it happens when we least expect it. Dropped Isabelle at summer camp yesterday. Sniff. Thank you- this was just what I needed!
Ann, once again you have put many important sentiments into words. The journey to adulthood always seems so long (and unforgiving these days). Then all of a sudden, “poof” it happens when we least expect it. Dropped Isabelle at summer camp yesterday. Sniff. Thank you- this was just what I needed!
Wow. That just made me cry a little. I’m glad you had a good “goodbye” from your son. The love and maturity that he showed with it is a demonstation of what a wonderful job you must have done as a mother. Kudos.
Wow. That just made me cry a little. I’m glad you had a good “goodbye” from your son. The love and maturity that he showed with it is a demonstation of what a wonderful job you must have done as a mother. Kudos.
Thanks for writing this. Trying to swallow the lump now. Not succeeding.
Thanks for writing this. Trying to swallow the lump now. Not succeeding.
Ann,
Great post and what a milestone for you and your son! With a 9 year old and a 12 year old, I both dread and hope for a day like you described! Love reading your work!
Ann,
Great post and what a milestone for you and your son! With a 9 year old and a 12 year old, I both dread and hope for a day like you described! Love reading your work!
I remember that day too, when my eldest finally grew up enough inside himself to say “thank you.” Took longer than age 17, but well worth the wait.
I remember that day too, when my eldest finally grew up enough inside himself to say “thank you.” Took longer than age 17, but well worth the wait.
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Sometimes, the words aren’t there.. (from Annarchy): [link to post] – Posted using Chat Catcher
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Sometimes, the words aren’t there.. (from Annarchy): [link to post]
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Ann,
Thank you for sharing your experience. My oldest boy is 14, starting high school in a month and I am beginning to see flashes of the man he’s struggling to become. They are fleeting moments of maturity, sprinkled here and there amidst the normal teenage angst of his days. But I know the feeling you describe… And agree, it’s not pride. When he looks at me, after an actual conversation, and tells me “thanks” just for getting it, it’s hard to best that feeling. It’s all the protective, consuming love you feel for your newborn–matured, tested, refined–and you know, in that moment anyway, that he’s going to make it. Thanks for putting your emotions into such eloquent words
Ann,
Thank you for sharing your experience. My oldest boy is 14, starting high school in a month and I am beginning to see flashes of the man he’s struggling to become. They are fleeting moments of maturity, sprinkled here and there amidst the normal teenage angst of his days. But I know the feeling you describe… And agree, it’s not pride. When he looks at me, after an actual conversation, and tells me “thanks” just for getting it, it’s hard to best that feeling. It’s all the protective, consuming love you feel for your newborn–matured, tested, refined–and you know, in that moment anyway, that he’s going to make it. Thanks for putting your emotions into such eloquent words
What a great piece Ann! I don’t have kids…but now I feel totally guilty for being the eye-rolling teenager that I was even when my parents gave so much of what they could. Thanks for reminding us all that love rolls down hill (and uphill, sideways and in circles sometimes).
What a great piece Ann! I don’t have kids…but now I feel totally guilty for being the eye-rolling teenager that I was even when my parents gave so much of what they could. Thanks for reminding us all that love rolls down hill (and uphill, sideways and in circles sometimes).
A timely reminder Ann – Cameron has already done his introductory experience for the army and in a couple of years, vet-school will probably beckon for Gabby.
I often wondered what went through my parent’s minds when they shipped me off to five different universities for my interviews. The panel at St Andrews really summed it up though: I had to go up for a viva because I won a scholarship there and afterwards, my abiding memory was a question from the Master of United College.
In an intimidating oak panelled room decorated with portraits of past vice chancellors, (It was called the Hebdomader’s Room) the deans were seated round a huge polished table. The Master said, “Mr Alker, is there any reason we should be aware of, as to why your choices of potential universities are all outside a 200 mile radius of your home?”
I must have given an acceptable answer as I got the scholarship and a couple of years later, when I had closely worked with him on student matters, he told me that as head of discipline, his nightmare was not unruly students, but over-interfering parents, so having mine at the end of a six hour journey from home was a blessing!
Doesn’t sound as though your lad will be one of the former or you one of the latter!
Best wishes
Steve
A timely reminder Ann – Cameron has already done his introductory experience for the army and in a couple of years, vet-school will probably beckon for Gabby.
I often wondered what went through my parent’s minds when they shipped me off to five different universities for my interviews. The panel at St Andrews really summed it up though: I had to go up for a viva because I won a scholarship there and afterwards, my abiding memory was a question from the Master of United College.
In an intimidating oak panelled room decorated with portraits of past vice chancellors, (It was called the Hebdomader’s Room) the deans were seated round a huge polished table. The Master said, “Mr Alker, is there any reason we should be aware of, as to why your choices of potential universities are all outside a 200 mile radius of your home?”
I must have given an acceptable answer as I got the scholarship and a couple of years later, when I had closely worked with him on student matters, he told me that as head of discipline, his nightmare was not unruly students, but over-interfering parents, so having mine at the end of a six hour journey from home was a blessing!
Doesn’t sound as though your lad will be one of the former or you one of the latter!
Best wishes
Steve
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I love this motherhood piece by the wonderful Ann Handley [link to post] (@MarketingProfs) – Posted using Chat Catcher
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I love this motherhood piece by the wonderful Ann Handley [link to post] (@MarketingProfs)
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@DonnaPapacosta I had the same feeling as Ann Handley [link to post] dropping each son off at the dorm for univ year 1! – Posted using Chat Catcher
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@DonnaPapacosta I had the same feeling as Ann Handley [link to post] dropping each son off at the dorm for univ year 1!
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Another beautiful, inspiring gift from Ann: RT @MarketingProfs: Sometimes, words just fail me: [link to post] – Posted using Chat Catcher
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Another beautiful, inspiring gift from Ann: RT @MarketingProfs: Sometimes, words just fail me: [link to post]
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Lovely. RT @MarketingProfs: Morning, everyone. Thanks for all the love on my “At a Loss for Words” post: [link to post] – Posted using Chat Catcher
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Lovely. RT @MarketingProfs: Morning, everyone. Thanks for all the love on my “At a Loss for Words” post: [link to post]
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RT @hertantya: A beautiful writing on the purest form of love 1 could ever find RT @MarketingProfs:”At a Loss for Words” [link to post] – Posted using Chat Catcher
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RT @hertantya: A beautiful writing on the purest form of love 1 could ever find RT @MarketingProfs:”At a Loss for Words” [link to post]
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Very touching RT @BarbAtSea: Lovely. RT @MarketingProfs: Morning, everyone. “At a Loss for Words”: [link to post] – Posted using Chat Catcher
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Very touching RT @BarbAtSea: Lovely. RT @MarketingProfs: Morning, everyone. “At a Loss for Words”: [link to post]
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@surtisunanto i don’t even have a kid and was misty eyes when i read that damn @hertantya re: [link to post] – Posted using Chat Catcher
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@surtisunanto i don’t even have a kid and was misty eyes when i read that damn @hertantya re: [link to post]
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Ann – your son is lucky to have you as his Mom and we, your readers, are lucky that you share all of these wonderful experiences with us. You have outdone yourself this time.
Ann – your son is lucky to have you as his Mom and we, your readers, are lucky that you share all of these wonderful experiences with us. You have outdone yourself this time.
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@MarketingProfs think the word u r looking for may be victory. ever time my kids do something like your son is doing i feel victory for them – Posted using Chat Catcher
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@MarketingProfs think the word u r looking for may be victory. ever time my kids do something like your son is doing i feel victory for them
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@MarketingProfs great post Ann! I laughed out loud a few times thinking back to my teen years. Then I emailed it to my mom and thanked her! – Posted using Chat Catcher
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@MarketingProfs great post Ann! I laughed out loud a few times thinking back to my teen years. Then I emailed it to my mom and thanked her!
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Incredible essay about parenthood RT @MarketingProfs Sometimes, words just fail me: [link to post] – Posted using Chat Catcher
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Incredible essay about parenthood RT @MarketingProfs Sometimes, words just fail me: [link to post]
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Absolutely beautiful.